Alone
by The Blue Sorceress
Summary: This is my very own version of the whole Vegeta/Bulma get together thing. There's more in here besides romance, such as an element of drama and a little humor, dark and otherwise. *Finished with a bit of editing on Chapter 4*
1. Alone

  
Please Read First!  
  
Okay, here's the deal: I'm kind of new at this so bear with me. Long have I been a DBZ fan and only now have I let my natural creative urges get the best of me and cause me to meddle in my favorite universe. I figured that I ought to introduce myself to the world of DBZ fanfiction with a tried and true favorite. Yes, ANOTHER Bulma-Vegeta get together story. Before you run away screaming hear me out. I know everyone thinks they've read all the permutations of this story, but everyone has their own vision. Why? Because no one really knows what happened, so our imaginations get the better of us. I decided to use this story as my first DBZ fanfiction because one, it's been kicking around in my head forever and two, because I wanted to get my vision of this rather interesting period of the DBZ story out to readers on the net. I sincerely doubt that no one has ever said what I have to say with this story before, no story is ever truly unique, but I think my version of events is interesting enough to invest some time in, and I can only say that I hope you enjoy yourselves.   
  
You might notice a few things that may seem a bit unfamiliar in this story. Something that was neglected in the English DBZ dub (or so I am told by my friends who happen to fancy themselves to be DBZ experts) is the fact that for some period of time after Goku returned to Earth and before the androids arrived Bulma and Yaumcha were actually married. That's what my friends say at least. Anyway, I decided that might be an interesting little tidbit for a story so I popped it in. Another thing you may notice is the lack of Japanese in my story. For ease of writing and ease of reading I've decided not to inflict anyone out there with my limited knowledge of the Japanese language.   
  
Thank you,   
The Blue Sorceress   
  
_______________________________________________________________________  
  
  
It was early in the morning and the papers had just been taken by courier away from the Capsule Corp compound. Turning back was no longer an option. That was okay though, Bulma was sure of that at least. It was the only thing that she was sure about, though.   
  
Six months. It had lasted six months, and really things had begun to fall apart at the end of the third month. Looking back Bulma knew that her short marriage to Yaumcha had been doomed to failure. She had wanted to settle down and start a family, and for a while it seemed like Yaumcha had wanted that too, but they weren't just settling down to start a family, they were settling for one another. Lacking anyone more suitable to marry they had picked one another and like two children, began to play house.   
  
Things were fine for a time, but somewhere along the line the spark that had kept the two of them together for so long died. They loved each other, sure, but not with any sort of passion. It was a comfortable kind of love, and both Bulma and Yaumcha felt all together too young to be comfortable. Comfortable was for grandparents, not young   
Newlyweds.   
  
The end result was Yaumcha went out looking for the passion he was missing and found it. He was a handsome enough man, despite his scars, and he had no trouble finding a lady to share the evening with when he wanted to. Often he would get home late after a long night at a bar or club, or sometimes he wouldn't get home at all until the next day. He just hadn't been ready to be comfortable yet.  
  
Bulma knew, of course, it was hard not to know, but in spite of that she tried to make things work. She really tried. She had never failed at anything important in her life and there was no way that she was going to admit that she had failed at marriage. At least that was what she had believed at first. After a while it began to get to her, all the sleeping around that is. It plucked at her brain like flock of hungry vultures might pluck at a rotting animal carcass. Why wasn't she enough for him? What was wrong? Finally she gave up, a hard thing for her to do. One night when Yaumcha returned home late, drunk and smelling of perfume, Bulma was waiting for him at the front door, a suitcase in hand.   
  
She had handed him the suitcase, her eyes brimming with tears, and said "I can't take it anymore." Yaumcha wouldn't have argued even if he hadn't been utterly sozzled. He knew it was time to end it as well.  
  
Bulma sat down at the kitchen table and leaned her head in her hands feeling completely despondent. Yaumcha had signed the divorce papers quite willingly, he hadn't even put up an argument. Now the whole process was over with save for the final filling of the papers. Bulma had the sudden urge to chase down the courier and take back the papers, then go to Yaumcha and try to reconcile things, but she knew it wouldn't do her any good. Prolonging the whole mess would just make things worse.  
  
"You want a cup of tea, honey?"   
  
Bulma sat up and gave her mother a wan smile. She had been so absorbed in her own thoughts that she hadn't even noticed her mother entering the kitchen.   
  
Bulma's mother thrust a cup of hot tea into Bulma's hands. Apparently Bulma was getting a cup of tea whether she wanted to or not. "How are you feeling, sweetheart?"  
  
"I'm fine, Mama," Bulma replied, sipping carefully at her tea. "I guess I'm just a little... out of it."  
  
"Well, don't you worry, everything will be fine. You'll find someone else, someone better, and then Yaumcha will just be a fond memory." Bulma's mother was as usual, very encouraging and cheerful. She had so hoped that Bulma and Yaumcha might work out their differences, but apparently that hadn't been meant to be. Being the good mother that she was she put Bulma's wishes before her own and quietly prayed that her daughter would be all right.  
  
"I'm sure I will, Mama," Bulma replied listlessly. She took another sip of her tea   
and set the cup down on the kitchen table.   
  
"Anyway," Bulma's mother continued briskly, trying to lighten the mood, "that's   
not what I came to talk to you about. Daddy and I are going on a little vacation   
tomorrow. You know how your Daddy is, dear, dead to the world most of the time, so I wanted to get him out of the house for a while."  
  
"That's nice, Mama," Bulma said.  
  
"Now since I'm going to be gone you're going to have to take care of things around here. You know, keep the house clean, feed the cat, and oh, make sure that nice young man eats. Dear me, the way he lives I'm surprised he is able to keep up with his training."  
  
Bulma smiled into her teacup. "Mother, Vegeta is not a 'nice young man' he's a complete jerk."  
  
"Oh he's not as bad as all of that," Bulma's mother argued pleasantly. "He's very nice to me."  
  
Bulma sighed and set her teacup down again. "That's because whenever you see him you shove a pastry at him and leave. He never has the time to be a jerk."  
  
"Well, just make sure he eats, okay? The poor dear, he works so hard."  
  
Bulma sighed again. She knew her mother was hopeless, but honestly, couldn't the woman tell the difference between a 'nice young man' and a bad tempered spoiled brat? Bulma had no time to unload this choice sentiments though, because her mother had gotten up and left already. Feeling decidedly put off, Bulma left the kitchen, her cup of tea cradled between her two hands. Time to get to work.  
  
Out in the spaceship that served as a gravity training chamber on the Capsule Corp lawn, Vegeta, mighty Prince of the Saiyans, was about ready to break something. Over one and a half years training in four hundred and fifty times normal gravity was getting him a lot of nothing. Well, actually it had gotten him several concussions and too many broken bones to count along with numerous other injuries, mostly minor, but he wasn't getting what he wanted, which was to become a Super Saiyan. He was at the end of his rope.   
  
Something told him that he could train for a hundred years in a thousand times normal gravity and not get anywhere unless he figured out the key to unlocking the power of the Super Saiyan. He knew he could do it, he had to do it, but something held him back. He knew what that something was, and he tried to deny it with all his heart, but it would not be denied.   
  
That little something, he thought to himself as he finished off a second set of ten thousand push ups, was the ability to feel anything but anger and contempt and hatred. Long before anyone else had ever given his soul up for lost, he himself had given it up for lost. There was no place for a soul in his life, it could only hold him back. Now, he thought bitterly, not being able to care was what held him back. How ironic. He had been sure for so long that there must have been another way, but over the last year, he began to realize that there wasn't. His destiny was in sight, but out of reach.   
  
That didn't stop him though. He wasn't about to give up, not yet, not ever. If nothing else his pride drove him to keep going. To think that he failed to achieve what the idiot son of a third class warrior had achieved make the ache in his muscles and the   
weariness that haunted his mind become bearable.   
  
His stomach rumbled, begging him to take a break for food, but he ignored it and began another set of pushups.   
  
  
  



	2. To Their Own Devices

Hey!  
  
All right, you asked for it. Here comes the second part of my little story. I got a pair of rave (I think, I hope) reviews from two (count them two! I'm so excited!) people.   
  
Oh yeah, and before I forget like I did last time, DISCLSIMER TIME!!!  
  
Don't sue me.  
  
________________________________________________________________________  
  
It was very dark. Very dark, and she was utterly alone. Her footsteps echoed in the darkness, but no matter how far she walked she never got anywhere.  
  
"Hello? Is anyone out there? I'm afraid. Someone, please, say something!" She begged, her voice taut with fear. "Somebody... help me..." She fell to her knees in the blackness and wept. "I don't want to be... I don't want to be... alone..." That last word echoed cruelly, taunting her, and so did the wracking sobs that followed.  
  
Still weeping, Bulma woke up. Her sheets were tangled in a knot at her feet, her hair was sweat drenched and spread haphazardly across her pillow. Shaking with more than cold, she got up and pulled a robe on over her thin summer nightgown. She pulled the twisted sheets up over the bed again, smoothed the lumps out of her pillow and crawled back into bed.   
  
For a very long time she lay staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep again. Like it had echoed through the blackness in her nightmare one word echoed through her sleepy mind.  
Alone...  
  
  
  
He was trapped. Behind him, a sheer cliff, and before him stood two glowing figures with cold green eyes and hair the color of gold. The two glowing figures sneered at him and ridiculed him, and he could do nothing. A little voice in the back of his mind told him that he should have been able to do something, but he couldn't remember what.  
  
"You are pathetic," said the taller of the two figures. "You were supposed to be the one, but you failed. You are nothing."   
  
The shorter of the two just smiled coldly and stepped forward.  
  
Vegeta took a step back. "You'd better leave now," he said, attempting to sound confident. All he succeeded in doing was showing exactly how unsure he was.   
  
"Or what? What can you do to us?" the shorter figure demanded contemptuously  
"You are nothing."  
  
The taller of the two continued in the same manner, "You are a disgrace. You dishonor all of us. There is only one solution."  
  
Vegeta swallowed hard. He knew what the tall figure was thinking. He had thought it himself often enough. "You are wrong," he hissed, fighting back the overwhelming unreasonable fear that was washing over him. "I am destined..."  
  
"You were destined and you failed, how pitiful," both glowing figures said in unison.  
  
"You know what you have to do," said the tall one.  
  
"Don't make this difficult," added the short one.  
  
"Do it," they said, in unison again, their voices urging Vegeta to some course of action he did not understand.  
  
Vegeta took another step back, and found there was no more cliff behind him. Unbalanced he fell, his arms flailing wildly like. And he fell, and fell and fell.  
  
He woke in the same position he had fallen asleep, in a heap on the hard floor of the gravity room. Feeling a little out of sorts, Vegeta stood up and stretched his   
sleep-tightened muscles. Once again his stomach rumbled noisily. This time he gave in to natural law. After all even the Prince of the Saiyans need to eat sometimes.  
  
Exiting the gravity room, he took a deep breath of the early morning air, cool, sweet and heavy with dew. He felt the firm ground beneath his booted feet, but for some reason he still felt like he was falling.  
  
  
After several hours of restless sleep Bulma woke up again and dressed. Granted it was pretty early in the morning and Bulma was not a 'morning' person, but she wanted to finish up the latest batch of tests on her current pet project before dinner. That and she needed to keep her mind off her personal troubles. That and she didn't want to have the time to think about how lonely she was.   
  
As she left her room something rubbed up against Bulma's leg. She reached down and picked up her father's black cat, remembering that she needed to feed the affectionate little creature.   
  
"You're not used to having to wait for your breakfast, are you little guy?" she asked the cat, scratching behind his ears. The cat purred and put is cold wet nose up against Bulma's cheek. She carried the cat downstairs with her.  
  
As Bulma opened the kitchen door the cat leapt out her arms and rushed in. Curious, Bulma followed. She found the cat purring loudly and rubbing its head against none other than the Prince of the Saiyans himself, Vegeta. And oddly enough, Vegeta didn't particularly seem to care. He was wrapped up in his search for something edible that he might not have even noticed.   
  
"Ahem..." Bulma said, announcing her presence from the safety of the doorway. She figured that sneaking up on a Saiyan, particularly this Saiyan, was not a smart thing to do.  
  
Vegeta ignored her and continued to root in the fridge for food.  
  
"Excuse me," Bulma said, a little louder this time, "but when a lady enters the room it's considered polite to acknowledge her.  
  
"I'll remember that in case a lady ever walks in the room," Vegeta muttered just loud enough for Bulma to here.  
  
"You big... stupid... jerk!" Bulma squeaked, enraged. It was too tired to think of anything more scathing.   
  
"Keep that up and you might just hurt my feelings, woman," Vegeta returned, obviously not as affected by the early hour as Bulma was.  
  
"Keep that up and I won't feed you."  
  
"That particular threat no longer works, woman, I've figured out how to work all the redundant machinery in this death trap that you humans call a 'kitchen'," was Vegeta's reply. He pulled his head out of the fridge along with what remained of last night's leftovers -chicken- a handful of pre-sliced sandwich meat -turkey, roast beef and ham- and full gallon jug of milk. Much to Bulma's disgust he was drinking the milk straight from the carton.  
  
"You know, civilized people have such things as 'glasses' we pour our drinks into them instead of backwashing into the milk carton," Bulma sneered, getting back on her game.   
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because someone else might want some milk and I'm willing to bet they wouldn't want your spit with it."  
  
Vegeta smirked evilly and drained the carton of milk in one long gulp. "Problem solved," he said.  
  
"You're such an ass,"  
  
Vegeta just grunted and began to eat.   
  
Bulma sighed loudly and put the teakettle on the stove to boil while she opened up one of the cupboards to get out the cat food. Noting that its breakfast was about to be served, the cat left off rubbing up against Vegeta's leg and trotted over to Bulma to await its meal.  
  
Feeling sort of like she ought to at least attempt to be friendly Bulma asked, as she poured the cat food into a bowl, "Hey Vegeta, would you like some tea?"  
  
When the was no answer she looked up and found that Vegeta was gone, a pile of chicken bones on a plate and an empty carton of milk the only evidence that he had ever been there in the first place.  
  
"What an ass!" Bulma muttered to herself. "I bet he expects me to clean up after him too!" Then again, at least he hadn't been horrifically messy and noisy while he ate, unlike Goku and Yaumcha or any of a number of the other men Bulma knew were.   
  
Yaumcha...  
  
Bulma wondered absently what his first day as a 'free' man was going to be like. Probably he would train all day and then go pick up some floozy at night. Probably he would have a lot better of a day that Bulma was looking to expect.   
  
The teakettle began to whistle and Bulma turned off the stove and switch it to a different burner. As she took a teabag out of one of the cupboards she felt a whole lot less excited about her latest batch of experiments.   
  
  
Out in the space ship turned gravity room Vegeta was warming up at an easy one hundred G's. Even a Saiyan couldn't go straight into hardcore training after a meal. The strain on his body was almost negligible as he practiced a fast paced series of punches, kicks, and flips. He was hardly even breathing hard.   
After a half hour of that Vegeta kicked the gravity up to four hundred and fifty times earth's normal, and began to repeat the whole series over again.   
  
Bulma was so wrapped up in her work that she skipped lunch, and only the fact that she got a call from her parents just before dinner kept her from skipping that meal as well.  
  
"Oh honey, the weather here is fabulous. I wish you could have come with us!" Bulma's mother raved. "Isn't the weather lovely darling?" she called out to her husband.  
  
The almost inaudible reply was, "Yes dear, the cumulonimbus clouds show no signs off becoming cumulofractonimbus clouds anytime during out stay."   
"So how are thing at home dear?" Bulma's mother inquired.  
  
"Fine, Mama, I'm almost done getting the bugs out of my new project. I bet I'll have it ready when you get back."  
  
"What are you making this time, dear?"  
  
"Oh just another analysis machine," Bulma answered. "I wanted to try and see if improved Daddy's gaseous reclamation unit in the space ships, and to do that I need to figure out whether or not my prototype is actually doing anything. The changes are so minute that the older analyzers just don't cut it anymore."  
  
"That's nice dear," Bulma's mother said. None of that had made any sense to her, but it sounded like a good enough project to spend time on. "Have you fed the cat?"  
  
"Of course I did, Mama," Bulma replied indignantly.  
  
"Did that nice young man get something to eat too?"  
  
"Yes, Mama, Vegeta ate," Bulma said wearily. Damned carnivore that he is he ate all the meat in the fridge, she thought sourly.  
  
"Oh good! Make sure he keeps that up. I wouldn't want him to waste all away to skin and bones."  
  
"Of course, Mama," Bulma said resisting the urge to let out a big sigh.  
  
"Well, I've got to go, dear, your father and I are going out to dinner. Love you honey, bye-bye!"  
  
"Love you too, Mama, have a nice dinner." Bulma hung up the phone a few second after her mother. She turned back to her computer screen and went back to work. The cat pushed obsequiously at her ankles, begging for attention.  
  
"Yes, I know, time to return to the world of reality," Bulma murmured to the cat. "Just let me finish with this last bit of work..."  
  
  
Breathless and sweating profusely Vegeta slumped against the side of the gravity room. No matter how hard he sweated though, he wasn't getting anywhere.   
  
Maybe if I try harder, he thought to himself, standing up on shaky legs.   
  
He knew that wasn't the case.  
  
A memory of his nightmare floated into his consciousness.  
-You are nothing...  
  
-You know what you have to do...  
  
"But I don't!" Vegeta shouted angrily at the ghost in his mind. "I've tried everything and I've still failed! What more is there?"  
  
-You know what you have to do...  
  
Despite the crushing gravity the feeling of falling returned to Vegeta and along with it the feeling of utter hopelessness as he'd tried to back away from the two glowing figures in his dream.  
  
-You know what you have to do...  
  
"I don't!"  
  
-You know...  
  
Trying to shake the demons out of his mind, Vegeta stumbled over to the control panel and pressed a few buttons.  
  
He never did find out if it was just because he was distracted or if it was some other self-destructive urge, but somehow instead of entering in four hundred seventy-five G's, he entered four thousand seven hundred-fifty. He didn't even notice his mistake until he began a set of sit-ups. As the gravity grew stronger he felt his body being crushed. The pain was overwhelming at first, but then he passed out. Just before he lost consciousness he thought bitterly, well, now I don't have to worry about failing.   
  
  
  



	3. Tir'rral Torra

Okay, here comes part three!  
  
This is where the whole thing really gets moving, so enjoy the ride.  
  
Standard disclaimer: As I said in the last chapter, don't sue me.  
  
  
A red light flickered insistently at Bulma's elbow as she left her lab.   
  
"Oh great! Now what?" she asked aloud. She turned around and examined the control panel that held the blinking light. Something was wrong in the gravity room. Sighing loudly Bulma pulled up a chair and tapped out a few commands on a keypad. A series of numbers scrolled down a nearby screen.  
  
Five hundred seventeen...  
  
Five hundred eighteen...  
  
Five hundred nineteen...  
  
"What the...?" Bulma muttered, tapping a few more keys.  
  
Five hundred twenty...  
  
Five hundred twenty-one...  
  
"No, not even Vegeta's that stupid..."  
  
Five hundred twenty-two...  
  
Bulma called up a comm screen and linked into the gravity room. "Hey, Vegeta, is everything okay in there?"   
  
No answer.  
  
Five hundred twenty-three...  
  
Bulma waited for the usual scathing retort, but was disappointed. She began to worry. "Hey! You big jerk! Answer me!"  
  
No reply.  
  
Bulma switched on one of the cameras inside the gravity room and hooked it up to one of her many computers. She scanned the chamber and cursed. Vegeta was laying sprawled out on the floor. He looked unconscious. He looked... dead.  
  
"Damn it!" Bulma swore. She sprinted back over to the control panel where the red light was now blinking furiously. Her fingers fairly flew over the keypad as she input an override command.   
  
Five hundred forty-five...  
  
Feeling panicked Bulma jabbed the keys. "Protocol eight-niner-zero, emergency override command delta-zero-zero-two," she whispered to herself, "engage." She pressed the final button and gave a sigh of relief as the numbers on the screen began to go down.  
  
Five hundred thirty...  
  
Five hundred twenty...  
  
Five hundred ten...  
  
Bulma stood up and ran out to the gravity room and waited impatiently for the pressure inside to return to normal. Upon opening the door she was overcome by the smell of stale sweat, blood and the distinct scent of ozone that was always left behind when someone fired a ki blast. She spotted Vegeta laying in the same position he had been before.  
  
"Hey... you... are you... dead?" Bulma squeaked, approaching the downed Saiyan. "Um... if you said something I'd feel better..." She couldn't tell if he was breathing or not. "If you're not dead say something! You're freaking me out!" She stood over him as she said that last, looking for any signs of life. He didn't look like he was too badly hurt. She nudged him with the toe of one of her shoes.   
  
Finally Vegeta made a low, groaning noise and stirred. He sat up gingerly, assessing his condition. Nothing broken, nothing crushed, no internal injuries as far as he could tell, just a whole lot of bruising. He had been very, very lucky. "Luck's a bitch," he muttered quietly. He wiped his hands on his shorts and stood up, eyeing Bulma warily. "What do you want?"  
  
Bulma's eyes widened in surprise and anger. "What do I want? I don't want a little gratitude! I just save your miserable ass and you're not even decent enough to thank me!"  
  
Vegeta frowned, and muttered, "Thank you." He didn't sound like he meant it, which bothered Bulma.   
  
"You're welcome," she replied somewhat sarcastically.   
  
There was a long silence.  
  
"There's really nothing I can do about whatever's wrong with the gravity generator until Daddy gets back, so why don't you come inside. I was just about to fix myself some dinner. You could join me, I guess," Bulma offered awkwardly. She hadn't been looking forward to eating alone, and any company, even Vegeta, would be better than none.  
  
Vegeta gave a non-committal grunt.  
  
"Well, if you want to, just come with me." She turned around and walked out of the gravity room. A few moments later Vegeta reluctantly followed.   
  
The two of them entered the house, Bulma first, Vegeta trailing a good deal behind.   
  
"It's going to take a while to get dinner on, you could shower, or something..." Bulma suggested. Vegeta was staring off into space, so Bulma felt the need to add, "Are you sure you're okay?"  
  
"I'm fine!" Vegeta snapped.  
  
"No need to get touchy! For God's sake I was just concerned! Normal people get concerned when someone nearly dies!" Bulma retorted. "I'm just trying to be friendly. Do you understand the meaning of the word 'friendly'?"   
  
Vegeta looked at her for a moment longer then said something in a deep growling language.  
  
"What?" Bulma asked.  
  
"Tir'rral torra," Vegeta repeated a little more clearly. "In the old tongue it is the closest translation of the human term 'friend'. It means, 'one who fights beside me'." He frowned, as if having trouble believing that he actually remembered any of the old tongue, a language that had fallen out of use on Planet Vegeta many generations before his birth. Still frowning he walked up the stairs. A few moments later the sound of running water alerted Bulma to the fact that Vegeta had taken her advice about the shower.  
  
"Tir'rral torra..." Bulma repeated quietly to herself, struggling to get the accent right. She shook her head, unable to get rid of the feeling that something very, very strange had just occurred, something very strange, indeed.  
  
The food was set out on the table by the time Vegeta emerged from the upstairs bathroom. Bulma was sitting in one of the chairs at the kitchen table, a half empty beer bottle in one hand.   
  
Vegeta grabbed his plate and ate leaning against the kitchen counter.   
"You know, I went to the trouble of setting a place at the table for you, you could at least be courteous enough to sit down for your meal," Bulma reprimanded him.  
  
"Courtesy is a human custom," Vegeta grunted.   
  
"Well hey, what a surprise, I happen to be human!" Bulma said sarcastically.  
  
"I'm not."  
  
Bulma made a noise of aggravation. She tried to remember why eating with Vegeta would be better than eating alone and came up wanting. She drained the last liquid out of her bottle and got up to get another. "So," she said, trying to fill the awkward silence, "how is the training going?"   
  
Vegeta didn't answer for a long time, contemplating what to say. "My destiny continues to elude me, but it cannot run from me forever," he said at last.  
  
"That's a new one on me," Bulma remarked. "Usually people run from their destinies, not the other way around."   
  
"I happen to have a particularly slippery destiny."  
  
"Yeah, well it almost got away from you today." A thought suddenly hit  
Bulma. She went back to the fridge and grabbed another beer. She tossed it to Vegeta, who caught the bottle deftly.  
  
"What's this?" he asked.  
  
"A toast," Bulma explained, "to you're continued survival and my first day as a free woman. Let's hope things get better from here."  
  
Vegeta frowned. He would rather not toast to his continued survival. He wasn't quite sure if living was worth it. If there really was no other way to become a Super Saiyan other than Goku's way, Vegeta was pretty sure that he was never going to attain that much sought after level of power.   
  
Bulma noticed the contemplative look on Vegeta's face and gave him a curious look. "What're you thinking?"  
  
"I'm thinking that earth alcohol is pathetically weak. Which makes a great deal of sense considering that you humans are pathetically weak."  
  
"Why do you insist on being so rude? Especially to me?"  
  
Vegeta took a sip of his beer then said, "Because it's fun."  
  
"Fun?" Bulma demanded angrily.  
  
"Well, more accurately, funny," Vegeta corrected himself, smirking all the while.   
  
"You're a horrible person!"  
  
"By your definition I'm sure I am."  
  
"And you're proud of it!"  
  
Vegeta shrugged.  
  
"I should have let you get crushed by the gravity generator!"  
  
"I never asked you to save me."  
  
"Of course if I had let you get squished I'm sure I would have gotten stuck cleaning up the mess."  
  
"Probably."  
  
"Vegeta?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Do you want another beer?"  
  
  
  
By midnight both the pretty blue haired scientist and the Saiyan Prince were soused. Neither of them particularly cared though. They were both pretty much past caring.   
  
"Oh sure, get into the 'I've had a worse life than you' argument with me, woman, I dare you," Vegeta challenged. His cheeks were flushed and the neatly stacked pyramid of bottles on the table to his right was a testament to his level of inebriation.  
  
"Okay," Bulma agreed. She looked, if possible, a little worse off than Vegeta. She had had a quarter the number of beers Vegeta had, but then again her alcohol tolerance was much lower. "I've nearly been killed about a billion times."  
  
"I've actually been killed once. I believe one death beats a billion almost deaths," Vegeta countered. He was amazingly good-natured when he was drunk.   
  
"I've had people threaten to blow up my planet."  
  
"My planet was blown up."  
  
Bulma blinked, trying to think up something worse than having one's planet blown up. She settled on, "I was married to Yaumcha."  
  
Vegeta looked at her, trying to figure out whether or not she was joking. "You win." he decided.  
  
"No, no I don't. Not really," Bulma said after a moment. "I'd rather be me than be you. Don't you ever get... lonely?"  
  
"Lonely? No time to be lonely. I'm too busy trying to catch my destiny."  
  
"Ah yes, the slippery destiny," Bulma said.   
  
"Besides which, I don't think I can be lonely." The look on Vegeta's face was enough to catch Bulma's attention even through the haze of alcohol.  
  
"Is there a problem with that?" Bulma asked. "I'd love not to feel so alone all the time."  
  
"No, no problem at all actually. 'Cept sometimes I envy you humans and your emotions. Not often, just... sometimes. Saiyan warriors can't have emotions like you humans do though. They get in the way. They make us weak. I can't get attached to anything like you can." Vegeta frowned and picked up the cat, which was rubbing insistently against his leg, and petted behind its ears. The cat purred happily. "If I have a goal I can't let anything get in my way." He laughed bitterly. "And that's what's getting in my way."  
  
"Come again?"  
  
"Maybe I'm wrong about this, but I don't think I am. I've had too long to think about it. Kakarott, he became a Super Saiyan because he needed to, right? To survive and avenge the death of that little bald monk what-his-name. I want to become a Super Saiyan to defeat Kakarott and finally catch my destiny, but I think something out in this big wide universe is trying to tell me that's not what I need. I can't become a Super Saiyan the way I'm trying, but I can't do it Kakarott's way either."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"No friends. I don't care enough about anyone, to need to avenge them or to be driven over the edge by their death."  
  
"Tir'rral torra..." Bulma murmured.  
  
"Eh? What about that?"  
"Isn't that the closest translation for the word 'friend' in you language?"  
  
"In the old tongue," Vegeta corrected. "It was a dead language long before I was born."  
  
"Well," Bulma said, brightening, "I'll be your Tir'rral torra."  
  
Vegeta frowned, confused. Then he burst out laughing.   
  
"What? What's so funny?" Bulma demanded. "Doesn't it mean 'one who fights next to me' or something like that?"  
  
"It means 'one who fights beside me', but only for men," Vegeta said, trying to keep from laughing again. "For a woman it means something different."  
  
"What?"  
  
"You just proposed to me."  
  
Bulma laughed. "I didn't!"  
  
"You did. You just said 'I'll be your mate forever'." He feigned seriousness for a moment. "I'm sorry, woman, but I'm going to have to decline. As nice as an offer as that is, seeing as this whole nonsense," he waved his hand around the kitchen, showing off the mess the two of them had made, "started with you wanting to celebrate being a free woman and all, I simply cannot accept."  
  
"Oh shut up!"  
  
"No, don't try to change my mind," Vegeta said, being a little melodramatic. "You must learn to live without me, as hard is that may be to imagine."  
  
"Oh please! Get over yourself!" Bulma laughed.   
  
Silence reigned for a moment.  
  
"Well, it's late, and I'm going to have an evil hangover tomorrow, so I'm going up to bed," Bulma decided. She stood up uncertainly. "You know, Mama's got a room upstairs for you to sleep in, if you don't want to wobble out to the gravity room and sleep there," she told Vegeta.  
  
"Saiyans do not require beds. Those are creature comforts only weak humans would need," Vegeta sniffed disdainfully.   
  
"Yeah, and I bet you ten zenni that tomorrow morning I'm going to find you   
passed out on the lawn," Bulma said. "Besides which, I'm not sure I'll be able to make it   
up the stairs on my own."   
  
"All right, I'll give into weakness for one night," Vegeta assented. "Show me to this room your mother prepared for my use."  
  
The two of them walked shakily over to the stairs, and then even more shakily up the stairs. At the top step Bulma tripped. Vegeta caught her and steadied her.  
  
"Thank you," Bulma said, smiling drunkenly at him.  
  
"You humans and your inability to hold you alcohol," Vegeta muttered, picking her up.  
  
"Put me down!"   
  
"You're drunk. You'll just trip again, and then I'll have to catch you again. It's much easier this way," Vegeta argued.   
  
"You know, you're drunk too, and if you trip, you'll squish me."  
  
"Saiyans do not trip. And anyway, you should be so lucky to break the fall of a Saiyan Prince. You'd be squashed with honor," Vegeta pointed out. "Where to?"  
  
Bulma sighed and decided not to protest. It just wasn't worth the energy. Besides which it wasn't actually that unpleasant to be carried. "Two doors down and to the right," she said. She leaned her head on his shoulder. "You know, my Mama was right about you. She called you 'a nice young man'. You are nice. At least when you're not being a jerk."  
  
"Was that supposed to be a compliment?" Vegeta asked as he nudged open a door. "This it?"  
  
"Yeah. Just put me down near the... eeeeyyyaaaah!"   
  
In the process of making his way through the room Vegeta had caught one foot on a pile of clothes, unbalanced he tripped. He managed to roll before they fell.  
  
"I thought Saiyans didn't trip," Bulma said a little sourly.  
  
"We don't, I did that on purpose."  
  
"Oh you did, did you? Well then, Your Highness, I'm going to have to hold your intentions suspect. Look where we landed."  
  
Vegeta looked. They had fallen half on the bed.  
"And look how we landed," Bulma added.  
  
Vegeta notice all of a sudden that Bulma had slipped during their fall... and so had his hand, which was now resting firmly on her bottom. "I was trying not to squash you," he muttered.  
  
"Then why don't you move your hand?" Bulma teased. "I bet if there was light enough, I would see you blushing."  
  
"Saiyans don't blush."  
  
"They don't trip either. And I also heard from someone not long ago that they don't get lonely. No time for it. You know what I think? I think that's a whole lot of bull."  
  
"I think you're too drunk to think straight, woman."  
  
"You're right, but about more than you know. I AM a woman. And I'm lonely. And you're in my room with your hand on my ass. And we're laying on my bed. And I'm... I..." she broke off, unable to think of anything to say. She pulled his head down near hers. "I want to be your tir'rral torra," she whispered. Even in the dark she could see his eyes widen. Without giving him the chance to speak she kissed him. His arms tightened around her almost reflexively.   
  
Vegeta broke the kiss, feeling bewildered, but more than a little intrigued as well. "You do understand that this changes nothing," whispered, his voice hoarse. It did change things. He knew it did even as out of it as he was he knew things would change. He had let too much of his soul out that night for it not too.   
  
Bulma kissed him again. She scooted further onto the bed, pulling Vegeta along with her. "I understand perfectly."  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	4. Good Morning, Goodbye

  
My English teacher once told me never to make excuses for your writing. It tends to leave people with a sense of foreboding. Of course this has no practical application regarding MY story, I just noticed a lot of other people here didn't get that sort of advice from THEIR English teachers. So let me say it again: Never make excuses for your writing.   
  
The last and final act is upon us folks. I hope you enjoyed my little story.   
  
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Vegeta awoke with a pounding headache. Light was streaming in from a window alerting him to the fact that it was morning. For a moment he wondered if he had blown up the gravity room again, but then he remembered. Conversations, sensations and emotions returned in snippets to his mind, and then full memories wriggled their way into his consciousness.   
  
He almost doubted his memories, half wanting to forget how he had bared his soul, half disbelieving that he actually had a soul. After all this time he had considered it lost, sold off to buy his continued existence and power. Doubts were thrown helter-skelter to the wind, though when he saw the blue-haired figure nestled in the crook of his arm. The urge to flee gripped him, but he fought it.   
  
His head still hurt like the blazes. With his free hand he reached up and pressed lightly on a spot at the base of his skull. An old trick he had been taught by an old, but powerful, catlike female warrior that had served Frieza. To be used, she had told him, when one had no time for hangovers. He remembered the way that old woman's tufted feline ears had twitched in amusement whenever he spoke to her. He never did find out what she found so funny about him. It had been a long, long time since he'd thought about that time in his life.   
  
The headache gradually cleared off, leaving Vegeta clear headed enough to sort through his mixed up memories from the night before. He decided that he had talked far too much and had gotten far too drunk and he felt somewhat ashamed of both. But it had been a pleasurable experience nonetheless. A crushing weight had descended on him the day his planet and his people had been destroyed, the weight of responsibility. It was the responsibility to avenge his people, to keep his proud heritage alive, to remember what had been forgotten by all but three people. All of that weight had disappeared last night, and for a while, a very short while, he had been... content. He couldn't remember if he had ever been content before.  
  
His eyes drifted to the woman sleeping in his arms. She was content. Humans like her could sleep with clear consciences. Humans like her had no crushing responsibilities. No, he corrected himself; even humans have their troubles. It was wrong to say they didn't.   
  
As if on cue, Bulma opened her eyes. She shut them again twice as fast. "God!   
Someone turn off the damn sun! It's too early for the sun to be out. My head hurts too   
much for the sun to be out!" she moaned, throwing one arm across her eyes.  
  
Vegeta raised an eyebrow. Apparently she was suffering the same misery he had when he had woken up. For a moment he debated whether or not to relieve her headache, feeling tempted to let her suffer for a while, but eventually he came decided to get rid of her pain. "Sit up, woman," he ordered gruffly.   
  
Bulma did as he said, muttering feebly, "Don't call me 'woman'."  
  
A little bit of pressure point magic relieved Bulma's headache. She blinked in surprise. "Oh, hey wow!" she said, sounding much happier than before, "Where'd you learn that?"  
  
Vegeta stared at the opposite wall. "Pain can be a hindrance to a warrior. Either you learn to ignore it or you learn to get rid of it."  
  
"I figured you'd say something like that." Bulma stretched and slid out of bed. Walking over to pull some clothes out of her dresser she added, "It's kind of late, why don't you get dressed, or something and head down for some breakfast." She dressed quickly and left.  
  
Bemused, Vegeta got up, put his shorts back on, and headed downstairs. He arrived in the kitchen just as Bulma finished pouring food into the cat's bowl.   
  
By some sort of silent agreement they didn't speak about the events of the night before. It just worked better that way.   
  
"I don't know if I'll be able to figure out what's wrong with the gravity generator until Daddy gets back, but you could train on the lawn," Bulma said and she fixed herself a bowl of cold cereal. She proffered the box to Vegeta, "Want some?"  
  
Vegeta shook his head.   
  
"I figure," she continued, "that the control panel must have shorted out..."  
  
"There's nothing wrong with the machine, woman," Vegeta muttered as he sat down.  
  
"What?" Bulma demanded frowning at him.  
  
Vegeta looked away from her. "I pressed one too many buttons," he said.   
  
"You pressed one too many buttons?"   
  
"That's what I said, woman."  
  
Bulma turned back to her cereal. "You scared the crap out of me, you know. I   
thought you were dead. It's nice to know that if you had died it wouldn't have been the fault of my poor engineering skills. And don't call me 'woman'."  
  
Vegeta smirked. "Fine with me, woman."  
  
Bulma set her spoon down and gave him a reproving look. For some reason she wasn't nearly as annoyed as she made herself out to be. Maybe it was because she didn't sense any hostility in Vegeta's use of that particular label anymore. It was funny what a night of booze and a little sex could do to a person.  
  
"So I guess you're going to get back to training then?"  
  
Vegeta nodded, wondering why he felt the need to answer all her questions. "Not here though. I need to get away from here."  
  
Bulma raised an eyebrow. "Why?"  
  
There she goes with the questions again, Vegeta thought. "I'm getting nowhere here. I have to do something or my destiny will always be just out of my reach." There was a fire in his eyes, something that Bulma had never noticed before. Then again, she had never really looked into his eyes before. "I have to have it, what Kakarott and that boy from the future had." He had to bite his tongue to keep from saying more.  
  
"Will you be back?"  
  
"Of course, woman. I can't fight the androids from space. I can't defeat Kakarott from space either."  
  
"You're set on beating him aren't you?"  
  
"Yes." Vegeta's voice was unintentionally cold. He had slipped back into warrior mode.   
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because I have to. I don't expect you to understand."  
  
"Well I don't. I don't think I want to either," Bulma said. She sort of did understand though. He had to prove that he had finally caught his destiny. And he had to show Goku who was boss. It was strange to be able to understand, even a little bit, the enigma that Vegeta. "When are you leaving?"   
  
"As soon as I can. I can't waste time."  
  
As if to break the rising tension, the cat leapt into Vegeta's lap, purring.  
  
"I think the cat likes you," Bulma said, a faint smile gracing her lips.  
  
"The cat has good taste," Vegeta replied deigning to pet the purring cat behind its ears.   
  
"It's sort of funny, though. He never liked any other man but Daddy."  
  
Bulma finished her meal in silence then put her bowl in the sink to be washed later. Vegeta sat the cat down on floor and shooed it away. He headed for the door.   
  
"Are you leaving now?" Bulma asked, her voice catching. She wondered why she was so upset by the thought of Vegeta's departure. Only yesterday she would have liked to see him go.   
  
"Yes."  
  
Bulma nodded and sat back down at the kitchen table.   
  
Vegeta got all the way to the spaceship before Bulma came bursting through the front door of the house. Vegeta stopped and watched her run toward him.   
  
Bulma paused a foot or two in front of him, shifting awkwardly from one foot to the other, like a schoolgirl encountering her crush. Then in a moment of decisiveness, she leapt at him and kissed him passionately. "What was that term again? Tir'rral something-or-other?"  
  
"Tir'rral torra," Vegeta supplied, curious. He noticed the anxious look in her eyes.   
  
"Tir'rral Torra," Bulma murmured.   
  
"It can have another meaning," Vegeta added.  
  
"What?" Bulma asked, intrigued.  
  
"When I get back I'll tell you. And you'd better have the accent right by then. A second ago you just said you wanted to be my fish sandwich."  
  
Bulma laughed. "I'll work on it," she promised. She looked serious all of a sudden. "Hey, you take care of yourself, okay?"  
  
"Of course I'll take care of myself, woman," Vegeta scoffed as he opened the door to the spaceship. He stepped inside. "Worrying about me is a waste of energy." He smirked.   
  
Before Bulma could say anything more the door slid shut. Her eyes fixed on the place where she had last seen Vegeta, Bulma stepped away from the ship and watched as the circular craft took off.  
  
"I'd better see you again, buddy," she muttered as the ship disappeared from sight. "So get your ass back here in one piece." She turned and walked back to the house. Despite the fact that she was the only person in the entire compound, she didn't feel in the least bit alone.  
  
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Wait a minute, say the readers, this has been altered? Where are the changes? They're subtle, but I felt they were necessary to get rid of a little of the fluffiness that had invaded the last chapter. Anyhow, thanks for reading and please leave a review on your way out.   
  
Also, stop asking for another chapter to this, because you're not going to get one. There is a sequel however, so if you feel the need, go read that.  



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